


The Curious Incident of the Text Messages in the Night-Time

by a_m_c_7



Series: A Slight Miscalculation [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Language, Hangover, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jim Moriarty Has Issues, M/M, Minor Violence, Moving In Together, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Slash, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 02:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_m_c_7/pseuds/a_m_c_7
Summary: In which Sebastian receives a late-night SOS, there is a corpse, and Jim makes an offer. Or: the story of how Sebastian Moran moved in with Jim Moriarty.----Sebastian's phone informed him that it was 2:15 in the morning and that he had two unread text messages, received a few minutes ago from an unknown sender. Moriarty was the only person who had this number, and Sebastian’s suspicions were confirmed when he saw that both messages were signed with his boss’s typical “- M.” The first message listed an address and the second merely read: “Come now.”





	The Curious Incident of the Text Messages in the Night-Time

Sebastian woke with a start, his hand reaching for the pistol he kept in a holster attached to the bedframe. The gun was drawn and his eyes searching for the threat before he registered that the noise that had awoken him was just his phone buzzing on the nightstand.

“Shit,” he muttered as he lowered the gun and reached for the phone. Adrenaline fading, he became promptly aware of his hangover, and he winced at the brightness of the phone’s screen.

Sebastian ignored the stabbing pain in his head and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light. His phone informed him that it was 2:15 in the morning and that he had two unread text messages, received a few minutes ago from an unknown sender. Moriarty was the only person who had this number, and Sebastian’s suspicions were confirmed when he saw that both messages were signed with his boss’s typical “- M.” The first message listed an address and the second merely read: “Come now.”  

Grumbling, Sebastian got out of bed and began wading through the empty liquor bottles and cans scattered on the floor in search of some clothing. Trust his boss to get into trouble in the middle of the night. At least the address wasn’t too far… Sebastian retrieved a t-shirt and a pair of joggers from the floor and pulled them on, then slipped on a pair of shoes lying discarded near the bedroom door. After checking that his pistol was loaded with a full magazine, he secured it in a shoulder holster. He grabbed a lightweight jacket from the back of a chair and a wad of cash from the kitchen table on the way to the door, which he left unlocked behind him.

The cold air outside didn’t bother him, but he put on the jacket anyway to conceal his weapon. It was virtually impossible to get a taxi in his neighbourhood, especially at this time of night, so he jogged several deserted blocks until he reached a busier street. He flagged down the first available cab he saw, telling the exhausted looking woman behind the wheel to take him to an intersection a couple blocks away from the address Moriarty had sent him. He didn’t know what he was walking into. He wanted to be cautious about leaving a trail.

There wasn’t much traffic, so the trip didn’t take too long. Sebastian handed the driver money for the fare, plus a generous tip, and was out of the vehicle almost before it had come to a complete stop. He walked the remaining two blocks at a quick pace, as close to a run as he could manage without drawing attention from the few people he encountered.      

The address was a white stucco townhouse. Sebastian considered his options. He didn’t see anyone else on the street with him and no lights were on in any nearby buildings. But a wealthy neighbourhood like this was bound to have security systems, and he didn’t know the layout of the building, whether there was a back entrance he could get to… He walked up the townhouse’s front steps and tried the door. Unlocked. The direct approach it was, then.

Sebastian opened the door slowly. The entrance hall was dark and, as far as he could tell, empty. He slipped inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible and drawing his pistol. Light was coming from somewhere on the next floor. With careful steps, Sebastian climbed the stairs, his gun held out in front of him. One of the stairs creaked under his weight and he paused, holding his breath and listening for any movement. He let thirty seconds pass. Nothing. He glanced around one last time, then continued up the stairs.

Sebastian headed for the only door under which light was streaming. He gripped his gun in his right hand. With his left, he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, stepping into the room—a kitchen attached to a dining area.

He caught movement in his peripheral vision. He turned and aimed, nearly squeezing the trigger before he realized that the movement belonged to Moriarty.

“Sebastian,” Moriarty greeted. He was sitting at the kitchen island drinking a glass of red wine.

Sebastian exhaled sharply. “Jesus Christ. I nearly blew your head off.”

His boss shrugged.

“Is there any actual threat?” Sebastian asked.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Shit.” Sebastian holstered his gun and ran a hand—slightly shaky from unexpended adrenaline—through his hair. “You coulda been clearer in your message.”

“Wanted to see what you’d do,” Moriarty explained with unusual candor, tracing the rim of his wine glass with his finger.

“Christ.” Sebastian’s headache was returning with full force.

His boss’s dark eyes stared at him. “You look hungover.”

“I _am_ hungover.”

Moriarty merely _hmm’_ ed thoughtfully.  

“Look,” Sebastian began, trying to keep at least some of his mounting irritation out of his voice, “did you actually need me for anything?”

“Ah. Yes,” Moriarty said, as if he’d somehow forgotten. “Come with me.”

Sebastian followed his boss through a door that led to some sort of sitting room. It was tastefully decorated with expensive yet understated furniture, and contained what appeared to be a dead body lying face-down on the floor.

“Who is that?”

“David. He lived here as my bodyguard,” Moriarty answered, taking another sip of wine from the glass that he’d brought with him.

“Why is he dead?” Sebastian asked, even though he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.

“I poisoned him.”

“Why?”

Moriarty shrugged. “Why does anyone do anything? I felt like it.”

“Right. Of course,” Sebastian said. “Do you want me to deal with the body?”

“If you would be so kind.”

Sebastian sighed. He really wanted to go back to sleep… “Fine.”

“Excellent.” Moriarty turned to leave the room, but stopped and looked back at Sebastian. “His job position is open now, obviously. You can have it, if you want.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrow. “Do I really have a choice?”

His boss scoffed. “Of course you do, silly.”

He looked down at the corpse of the last person who’d had the pleasure of living with Moriarty. Sebastian would be an idiot if he said yes… He looked back at Moriarty, who was staring at him like he wanted to open him up and see what was inside—and not metaphorically…  

Fuck it.

“Sure,” he said, “I’ll take the job.”  

The way Moriarty’s eyes lit up was a bit terrifying and—if Sebastian were being honest—rather attractive.  

Sebastian had probably just made a very, very bad decision.


End file.
